


firefox (the down by the river remix)

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2019-01-16 11:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Star-sans can line up more than once.





	firefox (the down by the river remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Foxfire](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/329415) by mousapelli. 



> reposted from agck. written for jentfic-remix 2013.

It’s not a psychological association, not exactly. He doesn’t drool like Pavlov’s dog or anything, just feels a warm sensation every time he sees a van. The kind of warm that makes him remember hands on skin, tongues swirling together, rushed breaths and desperation far beyond what he’s felt the few other times he’s kissed before.

After almost two years, he should really be over it by now, but the feeling remains. It was purely out of convenience—it happens to all of them at one time or another—but for some reason this one lingers, surfacing more often than it should due to his continued success in landing drama roles. Which is great for him and his career, but not so much for his libido and possibly his heart as he remembers those few minutes of misplaced judgment while filming _Ikemen Desu ne_.

“Is it just the van, though, really?” Senga asks quietly, because Senga knows everything scandalous that happens in their unit even if he’s not personally involved. “Are you sure you’re not just thinking about _him_?”

Fujigaya frowns at the thought, because Tamamori’s low on the list of group members he would _pine_ over; even Kitayama has that historical rivalry appeal going for him. Tamamori’s a space cadet most of the time, chock full of quirks and idiosyncrasies that annoy the fuck out of Fujigaya normally, let alone if they were anything more than acquaintances. Some days they’re even friends, though those days are usually when they’re not promoting anything and don’t work together _every day_.

“I don’t even know,” Fujigaya finally admits, defeated. “You’re the expert here, you tell me.”

“Just because I’m in a long-term relationship with another member doesn’t make me an expert on _your_ feelings,” Senga points out. “Nika is a thousand worlds away from Tama, anyway.”

“That is the absolute truth,” Fujigaya agrees with a short laugh. “How did you know you liked Nika?”

“Honestly?” Senga leans back on his hands and smiles up at the ceiling. “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t like him?” Fujigaya gasps.

Senga swings his head to face Fujigaya. “No, I didn’t _know_ I liked him. He confessed to me and I was shocked, because I’d never thought of us as more than close friends, but I didn’t have much time to think about it because once he kissed me, I knew.”

“But I’ve kissed Tama.” Fujigaya frowns again. “All I knew is how hot it was.”

A shoulder pointedly nudges his. “Maybe you need to do it again.”

Fujigaya liked it better when he was filming back-to-back dramas, because then he didn’t have all of this time to worry about his feelings and what they may or may not mean. Even if he can grow his hair out again, he’s not sure it’s worth all of this consistent brain power that leaves him more mentally exhausted than when he was in university.

Too bad there’s not a statistic formula to determine whether you like someone as more than a friend, he thinks bitterly. He’d suffer through those standard deviation tables again just for something more definitive than ‘it was hot when we kissed’.

All he determines is that the universe is trolling him when he sees a big green van parked in front of his family’s house one day. It belongs to his youngest brother, who claims he’d gotten a good deal on it while rubbing in both of his older brothers’ faces that he’s the first one with his own wheels. Fujigaya stares at it and it’s the summer of 2011 all over again, the feel of the side panel digging into his back so real that he jerks back to reality.

“It’s not _that_ ugly, Tai-nii,” Ryosuke hrmphs, mistaking Fujigaya’s action for a disgusted lurch, and Fujigaya lets him think what he wants.

He plans on saying something to Tamamori after _Nobunaga no Chef_ is over, but then they’re sprung with a triple release and if Fujigaya has learned anything in this industry, it’s that the timing is _never_ right. He doesn’t even know what he would have said, because it seems incredibly lame to be fixated on something that happened so long ago. Tamamori’s grown so much since then; he probably doesn’t even remember it anymore. Most days, Tamamori’s hard-pressed to remember what he did the day before.

The absolute last thing Fujigaya expects is for history to repeat itself. They’re filming their movie, Fujigaya changing quickly in a van when the door slides open and Tamamori’s head pokes in, apologetically nodding at him as he crawls in and starts to pull his shirt over his head. His hair is brown now, almost reddish in the sunlight, which just makes Fujigaya more aware of what had happened between them when it was black.

Warm doesn’t begin to cover the feelings that flood Fujigaya, to the point where he almost jumps Tamamori right there, except that Tamamori does it first. At least, Fujigaya’s pretty sure he’s the one grabbed by his one remaining sleeve and thrown up against the very back seat, Those lips press against his and it’s familiar and foreign at the same time, though just as persistent and hungry. He grabs onto Tamamori’s shoulders, feeling the muscles flex under his fingers as he licks his way into Tamamori’s mouth, where his tongue is eagerly received.

“This time,” Tamamori whispers entirely too soon, their lips still touching, “we should talk about it.”

“Okay,” Fujigaya says, still in a daze, his skin more on fire than the first time. “Stay over tonight.”

He feels Tamamori smile and nod before blowing his mind again, claiming another ten seconds of Fujigaya’s coherency before changing with the speed of a seasoned Johnny and hopping out of the van while Fujigaya’s shirt is only halfway off. By the time Fujigaya has himself together, Tamamori’s already met back up with Miyata, which gives Fujigaya a little sliver of jealousy that he’s not sure how he feels about.

That night, Fujigaya declares his big brother right to borrow Ryosuke’s van while he’s sleeping, driving himself and Tamamori to the closest body of water and letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding the instant he shifts into park.

“I never thanked you,” Tamamori says, the first one to speak after so long of comfortable silence.

“For what?” Fujigaya asks, feeling considerably more nervous than he should with someone three years younger than him.

“Before,” Tamamori starts, and he doesn’t need to elaborate, “Miyacchi and I had been…confused about where we stood. If we were friends, if we were more, you know.”

Fujigaya blinks. “I didn’t know.”

“Ah, no, nobody did.” Tamamori takes a deep breath, staring out at the dark waterfront ahead of them. “We never made it that far, because you kissed me and it was nothing like when I tried it with him—”

“I didn’t kiss you,” is Fujigaya’s instinctual reaction. “I mean, we did, but I didn’t do it first.”

“Well, whatever.” Tamamori flashes a smile that has Fujigaya’s skin tingling. “I feel like that saved both of us a lot of heartache, so thank you.”

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?” Fujigaya asks.

Tamamori laughs. “No. I just didn’t want to wait another year and a half for star-sans to line up again.”

“Do you get weird feelings every time you see a van?” Fujigaya blurts out.

“Define weird,” Tamamori replies. “I feel weird normally, so.”

“Like you would remember,” Fujigaya tries to explain. “You know, what we did.”

“Ah.” Tamamori locks eyes with him. “I didn’t need a van. I remembered every time I looked at you.”

The way he says it is so simple that Fujigaya’s almost jealous, except now he feels like he’s wasted a lot of time. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Tamamori shrugs. “You didn’t seem interested, and to be honest I wasn’t really that interested either. We both had a lot going on—we still do.”

“So what’s different now?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s so frustrating and ridiculous that Fujigaya can’t help but laugh, relaxing when Tamamori joins him. His heart pounding from more than just the laughter, Fujigaya looks around them and finds the entire place deserted. It’s still too cold to loiter outside, though it’s nice and toasty inside Ryosuke’s van.

“Why did you bring me here?” Tamamori asks, sounding more curious than accusatory. “The grand theft auto I understand, but not the river.”

“I don’t know,” Fujigaya answers, laughing again. “We’re hopeless.”

“I think,” Tamamori starts, seeming to live-stream his thoughts, “that you should take me back to your place.”

“That’s…” Fujigaya says, then swallows. “Fast.”

“Like you weren’t planning on getting me in the backseat somehow,” Tamamori challenges, and Fujigaya stares forward. “I just wonder if you feel the same when there’s not a van involved.”

“Huh.” Fujigaya tilts his head in thought. “That’s a good question.”

“Because if you don’t, then there’s really no point in pursuing this,” Tamamori goes on. “So let’s go.”

Fujigaya starts up the engine, realizing after the fact that he’s being ordered around by his kouhai, but it doesn’t bother him as much as it usually would. He _likes_ that Tamamori is straightforward, impatient enough to just go after what he wants. The fact that he wants Fujigaya may have something to do with that, too. Though the concept of pursuing anything with him both terrifies and excites Fujigaya, which just means that he wants to.

The Fujigaya residence is asleep when they return, and Fujigaya hooks Ryosuke’s keys on the ring where he’d originally snatched them before leading Tamamori toward his bedroom. It’s too dark to navigate clearly, but Fujigaya knows his way around and Tamamori’s grabbing onto his shirt to follow close behind. They’re barely locked in Fujigaya’s room before their mouths find each other again, Fujigaya’s arms looping around Tamamori’s back and licking at Tamamori’s tongue before he can even flip on the light.

Lights aren’t necessary with all the stars exploding behind his eyes, anyway, and all at once he knows that it’s not just the van. He doesn’t feel the need to break their kiss long enough to say so, though Tamamori probably realizes it for himself with the way Fujigaya’s pressing against him, tasting as much of his mouth as he can and still not getting enough. He’s coherent enough to maneuver them toward his bed, but that’s as long as it lasts as he lands on his back and Tamamori’s weight covers his entire body, already rocking down against him.

Tamamori makes a noise low in his throat that has Fujigaya wondering what he has to do to hear that again, and again, but he’s not about to pull away to ask. As it is, he doesn’t want to break their kiss to pull off Tamamori’s shirt, in which his hands are making fists before sliding under the material to touch his skin. It’s smooth and warm and Fujigaya can’t get enough, exploring the muscles of Tamamori’s back and feeling each vertebrae of his spine before drifting down and around to his ribs.

It’s Tamamori who hastily pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, followed by Fujigaya’s, and Fujigaya recalls that there are only two times Tamamori takes control—when he has to do something ridiculous for work, and when there’s something he really, really wants. As there are no cameras around, Fujigaya’s comfortable betting on the latter, and knowing that Tamamori wants _him_ just has him into it even more. His own skin burns with need, wanting to feel Tamamori’s hands on him too, but no sooner does he think the wish than Tamamori makes it come true.

Instead of returning to his mouth, Tamamori presses wet kisses into his neck, which stretches to accommodate as Tamamori’s touch overwhelms his chest and sides. Fujigaya’s body curls up into him, greedily needing more, and lower, made increasingly obvious by the way his legs wrap around Tamamori’s with a sharp roll of his hips. That noise sounds again, this time from both of them, and Tamamori grinds down hard enough to keep them coming.

“Tama…” Fujigaya murmurs, then frowns at how impersonal it sounds. “Yuuta.”

Tamamori sucks along his throat with a pleased hum, leaving it tingling just as much as his own lips. Everywhere Tamamori touches him feels amazing, an intricate mixture of rough and soft that has Fujigaya craving it to the point of pushing it along. He nudges Tamamori’s wrists down and Tamamori chuckles into his skin, the deep vibrations taking him even higher, pulling a strangled moan from his throat when Tamamori’s touch drops between his legs.

“Is this what you want?” Tamamori whispers, his voice evilly low, and all Fujigaya can do is nod with Tamamori squeezing him through his pants. “You’re so hard, Gaya. Is this all for me?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya replies immediately, his breaths demanding to come out along with his words as his own hands roam. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Tamamori scoffs. “You know, I almost confronted you about it. Back then.”

“You should have,” Fujigaya says, frowning as he takes his frustration out on Tamamori’s belt.

“You were so weird about other people touching you, though,” Tamamori points out, running his other hand up and down Fujigaya’s chest as if to emphasize his statement. “My confrontation would have been quite physical.”

“I probably would have let you get away with it,” Fujigaya admits, shuddering from the gasp Tamamori makes when Fujigaya gets his pants open enough to thumb the head of his erection.

“You say that like you would have had a choice.”

Fujigaya’s eyebrows are still raised when Tamamori lifts his head and crushes their mouths together, kissing him so hard that he can’t think anymore as the rest of their clothes just disappear and they lie skin to skin. Tamamori’s still buff from Dream Boys and Fujigaya wants to feel every contour of his muscles, particularly the ones that make him groan and touch Fujigaya more. Hands on the backs of his thighs and Fujigaya’s knees lift on their own, drawing out another pleased noise as Tamamori moves between them.

“If you want me to use something, you should get it now,” Tamamori mumbles between kisses, though he backs up when Fujigaya flings his arm aimlessly out to the side. “Because I wanna fuck you really badly.”

Hearing the words has Fujigaya making the effort to get into his side drawer, returning with the essentials that he hands off to Tamamori before lying back to get comfortable. His eyes are barely open, but he can see Tamamori looking down at him as he uncaps the lube and rubs a good amount onto his fingers.

“I’m not always going to do the work, you know,” Tamamori says, conversationally like he’s not swirling a finger into Fujigaya, and Fujigaya lets out a snort with his moan. “A fantasy of mine is to have you ride me like you ride the floor in _Firebeat_.”

“Yeah?” Fujigaya asks, arching at the second finger. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“It’s not a new fantasy,” Tamamori says pointedly, and Fujigaya wraps his arms around Tamamori’s neck to respond nonverbally. Tamamori drinks down his moans as his touch gets deeper, stretching him carefully until he can add a third finger, which has Fujigaya’s body pushing back on its own. “Let me know when you’re ready, mm, you feel so good, can’t wait to feel it all around me.”

Fujigaya isn’t sure if it’s Tamamori’s words, fingers, or a combination of everything that has him grabbing Tamamori by the shoulders and rolling them over, nearly off the bed as he pins Tamamori down onto his back and straddles his lap. Tamamori’s cock bumps against his and it has him moving faster, knocking Tamamori’s wrist away from him and snatching the condom to roll it on.

“Gaya,” Tamamori gasps, eyes bright with surprise and arousal as his hands settle on Fujigaya’s waist. He arches when Fujigaya gives him a stroke of lube and takes the base in hand. “Please.”

“Use my name,” Fujigaya demands, his voice coming out sterner than he’d intended, but that just makes him want it more.

“Taisuke,” Tamamori says, and Fujigaya lowers himself down onto Tamamori’s cock, pulling soft moans from both of them. “Oh fuck, _Taisuke_.”

Fujigaya feels a streak of power he doesn’t often get in bed, using it to his advantage as he starts moving the second his body adjusts to having Tamamori inside him. It feels so good to do it this way, Tamamori hitting him much deeper as he controls the pace completely. Imitating his accent dance is easier than it should be, especially when Tamamori ‘helps’ by snapping his hips up in time with Fujigaya’s rhythm.

Noises start to spill from Fujigaya’s lips as Tamamori hits him just right, which reach dangerous volumes with parents and siblings in the next rooms. He can’t control it, though, continuing even after Tamamori leans up as much as he can and fuses their mouths together, muffling both of their moans as Fujigaya bounces on him.

Fujigaya’s hands return to Tamamori’s body to find his skin slick with sweat, hair plastered to his face as he kisses Fujigaya like it’s his means to breathe. He’s wheezing out of his nose like he’s close, which becomes more likely as he reaches down to curl fingers around Fujigaya’s cock and pull him off. Fujigaya gets uncontrollably louder, but Tamamori keeps them muted even though his own orgasm.

Tamamori pauses for a second as he comes, his other hand firm on Fujigaya’s ass to get as deep as he can, but then his efforts double on Fujigaya and nothing could stop Fujigaya from spilling over his fist. Gravity shifts and they’re horizontal again, but just long enough for Fujigaya to roll to the side and stretch out with a sharp hiss.

“You okay?” Tamamori asks, looking concerned somewhere underneath all of the orgasmic bliss.

“Yeah,” Fujigaya says. “Like I said, I haven’t done that for a long time.”

Tamamori grins as he turns to his side and curls up next to Fujigaya. “Maybe you should practice it more.”

He laughs when Fujigaya swats at him half-heartedly. “Next time you’re on top.”

“Whatever,” Tamamori grumbles, and when he reluctantly cleans them both up while mumbling to condom-san that his life is hard, Fujigaya just smiles and thanks whoever is responsible for the existence of changing vans.


End file.
